


What is mightier than the sword?

by RandomNoodleDish



Series: Dream SMP One Shots and stuff :) [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, I thought to myself: What if Techno regrets his actions unconsciously?, Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), and then I did it!, in John Mulaney voice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:07:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29425032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomNoodleDish/pseuds/RandomNoodleDish
Summary: “Technoblade listen to me! For once in your life you didn’t have”-  He heard Tommy yell. Techno felt like a puppet as he shot Tubbo with a firework before turning back to Tommy. He aimed the crossbow at the child’s head with precision. The withers screamed past him. Tubbo spawned again in the bed. The blood from his last death had not even dissipated. The voices kept egging him on with "Blood for the Blood God!" He didn’t know where his voice began and the chat’s ended.Techno has to deal with the consequences of his actions during Doomsday in a winter storm.
Series: Dream SMP One Shots and stuff :) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169417
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	What is mightier than the sword?

Technoblade dragged the spade through the soil. A new day, a new harvest. History repeats itself and the daily monotony of life continues. The dirt pressed into his robes, as he kneeled to carefully plant the small potatoes. Gently patting down the new plants, he reached for his water bucket. The voices today were quiet. They usually were after a feast. Yesterday’s destruction of L’Manberg proved to be a bloodbath. People ran screaming and were caught in the crossfire of the withers, Dream’s TNT, and of course, his fireworks. They couldn’t even reach their armor before they were slain again. Soon, even the spawning bed was covered in the gore; people never made it out of the bed. Blood would have been flowing through the streets of L’Manberg, if it still existed. But it still would not be enough. Soon the voices would crave more. They were not satisfied for long. He looked down. What once was brown dirt covering his fingers was now slick viscous blood. He couldn’t hold onto the handle; it slipped under his stained hands. Techno gripped the garden fence, desperately looking for something to ground him. The water pooled around the seedlings, but it was tinged. The red liquid overcame the green sprouts. They were drowning, he realized with harsh breaths escaping him. The blood, it was coming out too fast. He couldn’t stop it. They are going to die, and he can’t save them. He was drowning too because the air wasn’t reaching him.

“Hey,” a voice said.

“Heh?” He looked up sharply. He blinked through the haze and saw the kind face of Philza. He looked back down. The dirt absorbed the water. The plants were fine. He stood up casually. Philza waited, the snow reflecting the soft greens from his coat. Behind him was the pine forest. And Tommy’s unfinished cabin.

“Ranboo and I were planning on heading out. It’ll be a few days at least,” Philza explained, “you coming?”

“Nah”—he dusted the soil off—“I need to get grinding again. The orphans aren’t going to slave me materials themselves.” They both laughed.

“Okay mate, but if you need anything, just ping me,” Philza reminded. Techno nodded and picked up the water bucket. The winged man turned to the house and yelled for Ranboo. Green and red eyes peered out of the window.

“One minute!” he shouted down.

“Hurry up!” Phil groaned. A couple seconds later there was a thud as Ranboo tripped down the stairs and out the door. He shoved a few items into his inventory while walking out into the snow.

“See you later, Techno!” Ranboo said with a smile. Techno grunted. He still didn’t trust the half-enderman, but Phil did…for some reason. The two walked off into the forest opposite of the way to L’Manberg while Techno watched them. The dew frozen over the night started melting. He had work to do.

_Thwack_ , the tree fell before the ax. Powdered snow sifted from the tree onto his head. He flicked his ear from the cold contact. The sun was still rising, but its rays began beating on his back. He had folded his crimson robe neatly on a nearby branch. His white blouse was thin enough that he could still feel the biome’s chill. He collected the dark wood. He twisted the tool, feeling the worn handle. He could see his exhales and his muscles ached. Usually, this sort of work was nothing, but he needed to regain his strength from yesterday’s war. He ignored his body’s warnings and moved towards the next tree. He wanted—needed—a distraction. He swung again and again against the tree. His body went along with the rhythm. The splinters flew everywhere with his uncoordinated strikes. He was hitting too hard…and too sloppily. The swings reverberated and shook his entire frame. His breaths came out faster now, sweat beading down his brow. _Just one more_ , he thought maniacally and put all his force into it. _Thwack!_ He fell with a grunt. The great Technoblade does not yell or cry in pain, especially when he did not want to wake the voices. He bit his lip, drawing blood. It tasted good. His arm, his main arm, his weapon arm, was screaming. He touched his forearm lightly and suppressed tears from the pain. He overdid it. He picked up the ax with a grunt and shoved it back in his inventory. Grabbing his robe, he cradled his arm and walked back to the cabin.

He staggered through the door, eyeing the chests. Quickly checking through their inventories, he found that he was out of healing potions. He spent them all with Phil yesterday. He could pop a Gapple, but that would only take the pain away, and not heal the injury for awhile. He leaned against cabinet cubby hole. He tried to recall the ingredients for the potion, but the pain made his head throb. _Wart melon bottle :D_ , a lone voice offered before fading back to nothingness.

“Thanks. I’ll name one of the hounds after you.” He promised. He opened the brewing chest and grabbed the materials. He shoved a blaze powder in the brewer and waited for the potion. As soon as it started bubbling, he sipped on the concoction. The throbbing pain subsided, but the arm was still tender. He looked outside. Sunset already. How long had he been outside? The tundra never had enough light. He wasn’t tired ~~he was~~ , but he couldn’t work in the nightly blizzards, especially with his arm healing. He looked around his room. What to do? Phil was gone, Tommy was… whatever. He was alone. Truly alone without the voices. He glanced around the hollow cabin. He always kept himself busy because there was something always to work towards, but now…he accomplished his goals. Government was gone from the server. He paced up and down the wooden rooms. He wandered down to his villagers, checking their wares. One was selling old parchment with a quill. It was a cheap, yet odd, thing for sale. He bought it and quickly tossed his spare emeralds to the squawking villager. He felt the uneven paper. He had the evening planned now.

He climbed up the ladder with his good hand to his private room. The chill of the night burned through his shoes, causing his hooves to cramp. The floor groaned as he walked towards the fireplace, placing the purchase on the desk. With a quick flick of flint and steel, a nice fire started. He sat at his desk and used his cloak as a blanket. Technoblanket. He dipped the feathered quill into the thick ink and began writing. While he was a dropout English major, that didn’t mean he avoided exercising his talent. _After all, the pen is mightier than the sword_ , his mind supplied. He smirked. The quill scratched the yellowed paper, and he put out mindless words that somehow connected. The fire crackled softly while he continued his senseless thoughts. Sentences interrupted each other and overlapped. The ink splotches were having a conversation with each other, each trying to assert their dominance. At one point he just wrote “Potatoes.” He started attacking with his quill furiously, too caught up in his mind to see that he was denting the parchment. He turned the paper to the other side, spilling ink onto the desk. He didn’t notice. It dribbled gently off the wood and landed on the floor. _Drip, drip, drip, THUNK!_

Techno started at the sound, looking up to see that one of the windows had blown open. He rose from his seat and shuffled over to the offending pane and shut it. He closed his eyes with a sigh and began poking his finger with the pen. He needed to winterize his home better. When he looked down, he was holding his crossbow. He looked up to see Tubbo to his left and Tommy in front of him. 

“Technoblade listen to me! For once in your life you didn’t have”- He heard Tommy yell. Techno felt like a puppet as he shot Tubbo with a firework before turning back to Tommy. He aimed the crossbow at the child’s head with precision. The withers screamed past him. Tubbo spawned again in the bed. The blood from his last death had not even dissipated. The voices kept egging him on with _Blood for the Blood God!_ He didn’t know where his voice began and the chat’s ended. 

“TECHNOBLADE YOU ARE SELFISH!” he heard Tommy’s accusation over the destruction. He stumbled back and bit back a hiss from his back hitting the desk’s edge. It was too cold for it to be L’Manberg. He was in his home, but he could hear the TNT’s explosions in the background. 

“Selfish?” He looked at the Tommy who was currently hidden in the cabinet, “You used me from the start!” Tommy’s eyes frantically turned to the door, as if Dream was about to walk in. 

“You didn’t have to do this!” He said to the door fearfully. Techno stormed to the hiding spot and yanked Tommy out, gripping his shirt. The chat thirsted for more blood, so he would give it to them. 

“You’ve never thought of me as a friend Tommy, you used me from the start” —He yelled in teenager’s face. His clothes were still in tatters from his exile—“You saw me just as the Blade. That’s all I was to you: a weapon. Well, guess what? I’m choosing what I fight for now, and I choose to destroy the government!” He pressed the loaded crossbow against Tommy’s forehead. As he was pulling the trigger that stupid, selfless, president jumped in front of it, taking the explosive in the chest. Techno fell back against the cream walls. He shot again, too bloodlusted to care, and the firework went through the crater of Tubbo’s body to directly hit Tommy. The child collapsed on top of his friend’s corpse. The wooden floors of cabin were covered by the dead and dying. 

“You destroy what people love for your own self gain! Techno, you were our friend. You were _my friend_ , and I thought—” he whispered over the chat’s delusional rambles, “—People are above the government.” 

Techno screamed back, “I’m a person!” The quill snapped in half from the pressure. He looked down to where he held his crossbow. The fragile feathers were crumpled and began falling out. He quickly turned around to see that his room was empty. The window had opened again. The ~~wither~~ —wind was screaming. The voices were gone again. He silently walked to the window again and shut it. Techno picked up the parchment, and with a face set in stone, threw it and the broken pen into the flames. 

**Author's Note:**

> *checks notes* yeeEP this was supposed to be done a month ago. So, here's the angst! Comments appreciated :D


End file.
